


I went and broke my own goddamn heart

by heartunsettledsoul



Series: Forgotten Moments [9]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: 2.10, Canon Compliant, and then there's some making out in a closet, bughead - Freeform, in which everyone tells jug he is a moron, post-ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 02:59:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13425318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartunsettledsoul/pseuds/heartunsettledsoul
Summary: The absence of Betty in his everyday life feels like a phantom limb; he keeps expecting her to appear in places she always used to be, before realizing that the actions he’s taken—that he keeps taking—ensure she won’t be where she always used to be.Or, everyone thinks Jughead is an idiot and tells him so.Canon compliant through 2.10





	I went and broke my own goddamn heart

**Author's Note:**

> (title comes from Postcard by First Aid Kit)
> 
> listen, guys. I have accepted the fact that post-eps are my jam. And that Anna will nearly always talk me into writing them when I have a kernel of an idea.

 

“ _ Jug!”  _ The way FP snaps his name, it’s clear that his father tried to get his attention several times already. 

 

“What? Hey, sorry.” 

 

The way his dad is looking at him, with almost a rueful amusement, makes Jughead a little wary. “I asked how you’re liking that typewriter,” FP smirks, looking pointedly at the machine that Jughead is sitting in front of. 

 

He has a nagging feeling he knows  _ exactly  _ where this conversation is going. “It’s great,” Jughead answers carefully. He rubs his hand at the back of his neck, fingers slipping under the cooled leather collar. He’s been doing exactly what FP suggested: laying low and shrugging his armor-by-way-of-jacket back on the moment he leaves school grounds. The heaviness of the leather on his shoulders brings him a sense of peace, the emblem at his back reminding him that he  _ does  _ have a place to fit in. Jughead doesn’t particularly like anything about the situation —or Weatherbee’s insistence on the removal of the one thing that helps him feel like he isn’t the weird, bullied kid all over again—but between Toni, Sweet Pea, and FP, he’s finally letting his anger boil down. 

 

“That Betty sure knows how to give a gift, kid.” FP claps him on the shoulder, displacing his son’s hand from where it was nervously placed. “You two finally working things out now you’re back in classes together?” 

 

Jughead flushes and shakes his head. He’s not so sure how to feel about his dad becoming so invested in the rest of his life—especially not his love life. But to FP’s credit, after he called him out on being afraid to go back to Riverdale High because of Betty, the not-so-small piece of him that wanted to make amends—the same piece that idiotically made a benign comment about  _ clearing the air _ —was alive with hope. He  _ hasn’t  _ seen much of Betty this week, though, not since sitting in the booth with her at Pop’s and feeling utterly taken aback that she had another conversation topic in mind. 

 

(She’d looked at him with soft eyes and that heartfelt smile he missed so much, though, and he’d be lying if that didn’t make his stomach flip-flop.) 

 

He’s on nearly his exact same class schedule as before, so he once again shares Honors English and chemistry lab with Betty; she’d smiled at him the first day when he came into the classrooms but they hadn’t spoken or interacted much beyond that. 

 

“We haven’t crossed paths all that much this week,” he admits. 

 

FP snorts derisively. “School’s not that big, Jug. Man up and quit avoiding her. You can’t just mope around and hope she comes back around. You’re the one who screwed up this time. A girl like that isn’t going to wait around forever. Get your shit together.” With that, his dad lifts the hand off his shoulder and cuffs him around the back of his head before leaving the trailer, front door slamming behind him. 

 

He deserves that, Jughead supposes. The current separation was his idea, after all.

 

He still tries to not think about that evening in the Wyrm’s parking lot too hard or often—his own voice sounds harsh and unrecognizable as it echoes through the memory but the image of Betty’s tear-stained face is permanently seared into his mind. It’s joined by other painful memories that stack on top of each other: Archie angrily telling him Betty didn’t love him anymore, the resounding crack of Sweet Pea’s brass knuckles against his own jaw, Toni’s look of pity after she kissed him and he tried to choke back tears because as much as he needed the intimacy it wasn’t at all who he wanted in that moment, the clean cut his switchblade slashed into Penny’s forearm, the crack of Betty’s voice when she finally told him about the Black Hood phone calls, Betty in that corset, on that pole, Betty willing to degrade herself in the name of staying close to him, Betty asking how many times they’re going to keep doing this to each other. 

 

The absence of Betty in his everyday life feels like a phantom limb; he keeps expecting her to appear in places she always used to be, before realizing that the actions he’s taken—that he keeps taking—ensure she  _ won’t  _ be where she always used to be. 

 

He stalked through the halls in his Serpent jacket, spent lunch and free periods with only Serpents, studiously avoided Elm Street, and tried to only sit on the far end of the Pop’s counter. Jughead isn’t giving her the space to come back, so it shouldn’t keep surprising him when she doesn’t appear. 

 

Sighing, he presses the heels of his palms into his eyes and tries to shake the ghost of her smile from his mind. If he’s thinking logically—which, he  _ is _ —Jughead pushed her away to keep her safe from Penny, from the darker aspects of everything about the Serpents that he overlooked in favor the sense of belonging they gave him. But Penny is taken care of, the younger Serpents aren’t under constant threat anymore, and Betty took down a damn serial killer with a shovel and her bare hands.  _ Logically,  _ they should be in the clear. 

 

He doesn’t really know what’s stopping him. Just that he is unable to propel himself forward. 

 

***

 

The bar food at the Whyte Wyrm is awful. Like truly, completely awful. It’s taken Jughead weeks to convince the other Serpent teens that Pop’s is the better alternative, despite it’s locale and the abundance of Northsiders; he could only take so many rounds of overcooked burgers and soggy fries. FP’s presence behind the counter certainly warmed them up to it, so it feels like a puzzle piece clicking into place when Jughead is there with Sweet Pea, Toni, and Fangs on Saturday afternoon. 

 

A few football players shot them glares from across the diner, but Reggie Mantle wasn’t among them, so nobody felt the need to demonstrate their testosterone levels by way of fists. Plus Pop had made it abundantly clear that anyone who fought in his establishment would be eighty-sixed for life. Jughead valued his newfound reputation, but he valued Pop’s food infinitely more. 

 

The group is bullshitting about the week while picking at a plate of nachos that’s growing lukewarm—Sweet Pea joking that he’s actually excited to do homework for once in his life simply because the geometry textbook looked so nice, Toni gets in another smartass remark about Jughead using his typewriter for essays, and Fangs calls them all nerds—when Betty and Veronica come through the door. 

 

The girls, wearing the noted yellow baseball tees and spandex shorts, have clearly just left a Vixens practice. The spandex is a new uniform development, though, and there are seemingly miles of Betty’s creamy thighs on display before they meet the very,  _ very  _ tight material of the black shorts just a few inches below the curve of her ass. 

 

Jughead, caught off guard, chokes on a nacho and Sweet Pea has to whack him on the back. 

 

“Jesus, Jones,” he laughs. “Try not to cream yourself, they’re just shorts.” Now thoroughly embarrassed, Jughead coughs even harder to disguise the flaming red of his face. The commotion draws the eyes of the girls wearing the shorts in question; Veronica arches an eyebrow in their direction before perching on a counter stool and wiggling her ass just a bit too much as she settles into the seat, Betty catches Jughead’s eye and turns even more red, the flush climbing up her neck and coloring her cheeks. She takes the stool next to Veronica, tugging somewhat self-consciously at the hem of her shorts. 

 

Jughead stares very pointedly at the ice cubes in his cola and braces himself for the ribbing of a lifetime from the rest of his table. After a few moments, it still hasn’t come, and he looks back up. Fangs seemed relatively bored by the whole thing, but Sweet Pea and Toni are watching him intently. 

 

“What?” he asks in response to their stares. 

 

Toni rolls her eyes and huffs. “You’re an idiot, that’s all.” 

 

“Seriously, man,” chimes in Sweet Pea. “If we have to keep suffering through your moping and pining over her, I’m gonna murder you. Pull your head out of your ass and go beg your girl to take you back.” 

 

He wants to. He has grand plans that involve inhaling the perfumed scent of Betty’s ponytail and whispering apologies in her ear before kissing the sweat off her neck and sliding his hands under the hem of those damned spandex shorts. He wants to do all of that—just not in the middle of Pop’s. 

 

Jughead tells his friends as much. “I’m not about to grovel in public.” 

 

Now even Fangs partakes in the conversation. With a snort, he tells him, “Dude. You’re already undressing her with your eyes in public. Go talk to her.” Unceremoniously, Sweet Pea shoves Jughead out of their side of the booth until he stumbles to his feet, nearly crashing into into the tray of food his father is walking past with. 

 

FP catches his footing before losing any food and then smiles at his son. “On your way to talk to Betty?” There’s a chorus of yes’s from the table behind him. “Atta boy!” FP declares, patting his son on the back with a free hand. 

 

“ _ Jesus Christ,”  _ Jughead mutters. “Can you all just leave me the hell alone, please?” 

 

“Nope,” chirps Toni, plucking more cold nachos of the tray. “It’s more fun this way. Now shoo.” She dismisses him with a wave of her hand and Jughead suddenly feels like he’s forgotten how to walk. 

 

Betty is still perched next to Veronica at the counter, poking somewhat dejectedly at a salad, her crossed legs causing the edge of her shorts to roll up higher on her thighs. Jughead mentally curses himself for his fucking  _ hormones  _ being the thing that finally makes him want to fix things with Betty but at the same time he wants to buy Cheryl Blossom a fruit basket for the uniform switch-up.

 

“Uh, Be– hey, Betts?” Jughead has to clear his throat before his voice is loud enough for her to hear him. 

 

She blinks up at him in surprise, the bright green of her doe-eyes flooring him even more so than usual. God, he’s useless. Useless and angry but still so hopelessly in love with the girl in front of him. “Juggie, what’s up?” Betty seems to catch herself at using the term of endearment and blushes wildly again. 

 

“Could we talk for a minute?” He can feel the eyes of his three friends burning holes into the back of his head and now Veronica swivels in the stool to watch him as well. Can’t he do anything in this town without a dozen people staring at him? 

 

She nods silently and before he can chicken out, he grabs Betty’s hand and pulls her out of her chair, yanking them both around the side of the counter and into the small hallway that leads to the kitchen. He steadies himself by leaning against the dingey wall and tries to swallow the lump that’s forming in his throat. 

 

“Jug, is everything alright?” Betty is peering out from under those dark lashes in concern and he ducks his head to avoid looking her square in the eye. Except then his eyes are met with her bare thigh and  _ shit that’s not helping either.  _ He feels a little like a feral animal backed into a corner, without any of the swaggering confidence he usually feels in this jacket. Because it’s Betty; she sees him for who he is, Serpents jacket or not, and it is uniquely terrifying. 

 

She seems to notice he’s breathing heavily and catches his face in her hands, forcing his gaze to her. “Jug, hey, take a breath. What’s the matter?” The heat of her delicate fingertips warms his face and he just wants to melt into her embrace. 

 

Out of the corner of his eye, though, he can see a very clearly eavesdropping Veronica leaning over in her seat. “ _ God,  _ hang on, uh,” he looks around wildly, eyes landing on a storage closet to the right of Betty. He grabs her hands again and charges into the small room, dragging her behind him. She lets out a squeak of surprise and he realizes too late how this is going to look to everyone in the diner, but he just wants to talk to Betty without five extra pairs of eyes on him. 

 

Betty looks thoroughly confused. “Sorry,” he says quickly. And then remembers that  _ sorry  _ is what he’s here for. 

 

“I, uh, I do really owe you an actual apology, though.” The confusion on Betty’s face softens into understanding and a tiny smile threatens to emerge. 

 

“Okay,” she says softly, picking up a hand to cradle his face again. Jughead closes his eyes for the briefest of moments and sighs, leaning into the warmth of her gesture. He misses this. He misses it  _ so much _ . 

 

His voice cracks as he starts to speak again. “I’m an idiot, as literally everyone out there keeps reminding me. My reasons for pushing you away seemed logical in the moment because I didn’t want you to get hurt and I realize that you are capable of taking care of yourself and I wasn’t right to make that call. I mean you took out a murderous stalker, for god’s sake, you know what the hell you’re doing and I clearly don’t. I am so beyond sorry for how I treated you and for hurting you. I don’t want this to stick. I know things have changed for both of us and shit is different, and I do still think being with me might get you in over your head but I don’t care anymore. 

 

“I don’t care because I want to be writing articles at the Blue & Gold with you during lunch, not getting into fistfights with Reggie Mantle or defending my lifestyle choices to Weatherbee. I love that the Serpents gave me a family I never really had, but I also love you. And those two things do not need to cancel each other out.” When he finishes, he has to catch his breath. Everything came tumbling out so fast and he needed it to be said. 

 

Betty looks at him, tears in her eyes, and chews on her bottom lip. Deep in the pit of the stomach is the urge to coax that lip out so he can bite it himself. 

 

“Jug,” she whispers. “I need to tell you something, too.” 

 

Something in the look on her face makes him take a step back, hand resting on the doorknob as if ready to escape. 

 

Tears spill over Betty’s cheeks and he’s instantly reminded of that night outside the Wyrm again. 

 

“I kissed Archie,” she says through her tears. 

 

There’s a whooshing noise in his ears and his stomach drops. Christ, he’s an idiot. Of course. He’s too late. And ...he can’t even be mad. Because he did the same thing. The walls feel a little bit like they’re closing in and his grip on the handle tightens, turning to open the door. Betty is still talking and her hands are holding his face again. 

 

“Juggie, Juggie baby please listen to me.  _ Please,”  _ she pleads. Jughead shakes his head, partially in disbelief and partially in frustration with himself. He really, truly screwed this one up. 

 

He laughs hollowly. “Betts, I– God, I guess we’re even. I kissed Toni. The first time we broke up.” 

 

Betty blanches and her hands fall from his face. She’s crying openly now and Jughead simultaneously wants to leave her here with the sting of his words and kiss the tears away. He sighs heavily and pulls her into a hug, “We’re too good at hurting each other.” 

 

A small choked sob shudders through Betty and she buries her face into chest. They cling to each other in a cramped storage room that smells like onions and stale coffee, trying to fit weeks of unspoken emotions into their embrace. Betty’s sobs eventually die down but Jughead finds himself choked up, lost in the familiarity of her tiny frame gripping his waist and the vanilla smell of her shampoo. 

 

Every piece of him aches: his head, his heart, and now—as the mixed scent of her hair and perfume fills his nose and one hand accidentally dropping to her spandex-clad hip—his groin. He can’t extricate himself from her grasp in enough time and his erection presses hard against the thin material covering her hips. Jughead groans inwardly because as much as he is infinitely turned on by the tiny shorts Betty is wearing, he doesn’t want his raging hormones to ruin whatever moment of reconciliation they’re in the midst of. 

 

“Jug,” Betty whispers. She doesn’t budge, but sure must be aware of his growing ...situation. “It— me and Archie, it didn’t mean anything. I was scared and I missed you. I  _ still  _ miss you.” 

 

“I’ve missed you so much,” breathes out Jughead. His fingers flex against her hips and Betty turns in his grasp, pressing her lips hotly against the fabric over his chest, then the hollow of his throat, before trailing open-mouthed kisses all the way up his neck and jaw. “God, Betts,” Jughead groans. 

 

He knows this likely isn’t the time or the place, but his vision narrows down to just a tiny pinprick that is only the feeling of Betty sucking on his pulse point. Letting instinct take over, Jughead uses both hands to wrench Betty’s face toward his own and slots his lips over hers, nipping somewhat harshly at her bottom lip. He swallows her responding whimper and slides his hands all the way down her sides, resting one at the small of her back to press her closer and letting the other trail to the bottom of her black shorts, stroking his thumb under the hem where the top of her thigh meets the firm curve of her ass. 

 

Betty clutches at the lapels of his jacket and if they were any closer to each other, they might become one entity. The kissing consumes them and in what might only be moments but feels like an eternity, Jughead’s jacket falls to the floor and Betty’s shirt comes over her head. She digs her nails into his arms as she lets her head fall back, Jughead mouthing down her neck to nibble at her collarbone. He feels like he’s burning alive from the inside out and doesn’t want it to ever stop. 

 

When he bites down a little too harshly, fingertips simultaneously sliding up under the back of her sports bra, Betty yelps and the moment breaks. They separate and watch each other through heavy, headed lids while breathing heavily. Jughead clears his throat and self-consciously pulls his hips away from Betty’s. Somewhat sheepishly, Betty tugs her shirt back over her head before pressing a light kiss against Jughead’s lips. 

 

“Are we…?” she starts to ask the question tentatively, but trails off when Jughead squeezes her hand in his. He nods. 

 

“I’m not doing any of this without you anymore,” he affirms. Granted, he’s made some bone-headed choices over the recent weeks but Jughead knows this will not be one of them. He feels the gravity of the moment when he slips his Serpents jacket back on and laces his fingers through Betty’s. Whatever lies before them, whatever curveballs the universe may throw them, Jughead is determined to make sure they face them together. 

 

They emerge from the closet to whoops and cheers from their assorted friends, who are gathered at one end of Pop’s counter. Betty flames red in embarrassment and ducks her head into Jughead’s shoulder. 

 

“Yeah, yeah,” calls out Jughead. “I was a moron. You can all shut the hell up now.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> comments really, truly make my day. pretty, pretty please leave some. they keep me writing. 
> 
> you can find me on tumblr under the same handle.


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